


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Indybaggins



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: F/F, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Cold Hands/Noses/Feet</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

 

Jen is in a stark grey power suit, all clean lines, and a necklace of expensive-looking pearls under a long, London-style coat. Her hair is slicked back into a perfect ponytail. Lips painted a dominant, bright red Heather can see from across the street. She looks like a business woman. Always perfect. Always in control. Heather eyes Jen when they walk up to each other, but says nothing. Tries not to look too excited for what she knows is to come. 

Heather herself is in a dress today, the same flowery one she wore to her sister’s wedding. A leather jacket over it. Too thin for December, sure, but it’s about the prettiest she owns, so she wears it. Her blonde curls are disheveled and tangled by the wind. She forgot the lipstick. 

She pays for her vanity by shivering all through the walk to the hotel, of course. Her hands are icy cold by the time they arrive. Cheeks wind-blown. But it was worth it, now she has Jen in their decadently hot room, air conditioning blazing heat with a rough rumble. Jen is leaning back in a chair, small smile on her face, pants on the floor; jacket unbuttoned enough to show the line of her bra and one nipple peaking out above it. Her stiletto’s are still on. Heather sits on her knees before her, trails Jen’s red silk underwear, kisses the curve of her belly, her upper legs, inhales her scent greedily. 

Slowly, Heather licks the smooth fabric of Jen’s panties until it’s soaked through, tries to chase the taste of her. She closes her eyes, her chin and cheeks wet with spit and Jen, and moans unashamedly. She can feel Jen tremble above her. 

She pushes the fabric aside, and circles the top of her finger over her slick folds while she licks her. Jen’s whole body tenses. “Too cold?” Heather asks, voice soft and breathy, while she experimentally pushes the tip of her finger in, slowly, and looks at Jen to gauge her reaction. 

Jen tenses again, and looks at her now, eyes dark and warm. “God no. Perfect.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
